Shirts of Green
by Giant Snapping Turtle
Summary: It's GI Joe through the eyes of a greenshirt! Features a few OC greenshirts and the same Joes you know and hopefully love, possibly hate. Regardless, prepare for wild GI Joe mayhem! Rated T for possible cursing.
1. Chapter 1: The Great Awakening

Okay! So, I wrote this story to show GI Joe through the eyes of a greenshirt! I'm not sure how far this will go, but it was fun writing the first chapter so I hope it does go far! I hope they aren't OCs, I tried to make them not…but someone PLEASE let me know if they are so I can fix it! Thanks for reading in advanced! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One- The Great Awakening

It was five in the morning. Hubert did not want to get up. In fact, he was fairly certain that rising from the comfort of his warmed bed wouldn't be worth it. But washing out of the GI Joe program for lack of attendance would be a poor reason to wash out, and it was on the bottom of his possible-things-to-get-Hubert-kicked-out list. Respecting the list was one thing that Hubert would not mess with. Besides, a list is written in pencil. And pencil is very hard to erase when you have a bad eraser, and Hubert has unfortunate luck when it comes to optimal pencil hunting.

So he arose from the cot, took a moment to eye the sleeping mass on the other side of the room, and then fell back down again. It was true, of course, that he was used to early rising. However, in standard army, he was normally kicked out of bed and then dragged on to the course by either a caring friend or someone who enjoyed kicking people out of bed. But this, this was a whole new playing field. Having to get up on his own accord was like giving an eleven year old the choice to go to school that day. Now, Hubert had a limited window into the mind of an eleven year old child, but he was one once himself, and he recalled days debating whether to fake sickness or actually become sick by eating raw meat.

That's not entirely true. Hubert had no intention of eating raw meat. And faking sickness was for eleven year olds, so he gathered his remaining strength and rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a heavy thud, and then blinking in shock when he realized that he had forgotten to remind himself not to go about his mornings that way. Starting the day with a bruised buttock did not do wonders for the attitude.

His unceremonious fall had awakened the sleeping mound next to him, and the mound slowly pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, regaining a human form, but not speech yet. What Hubert assumed was a 'good morning' came out more like 'gurin', which, according to his pitifully limited knowledge of languages, was not a word. Of course, this ruled out exactly two languages. English and Spanish to the high school level.

"Good morning to you too, Hoyden. Great day to be awake." Hubert was treated with a particularly nasty glare and an even more particularly nasty hand motion. It was clear the Hubert and his roommate were going to be good friends. In fact, this statement was already half true. Why just the other morning, Hubert had offered the estranged Hoyden a piece of spearmint gum, which he had accepted. Obviously, that was a secret message. It meant that Hoyden was accepting a friendship advance in the form of deliciously minty gum. It was either this, or, Hoyden had wanted gum. Either way, it was the beginning of a great friendship.

"Listen White, I don't have to listen to you cheerful nonsense in the morning. You keep your mouth shut until after ten you hear?" Hoyden was obviously not a morning person, and Hubert shrugged philosophically.

"You have my honorable word, Hoyden. My mouth shall not open until after ten. But there are some situations we have to discuss, because having lock jaw for five hours could leave me in some pretty interesting predicaments, and I usually like to avoid predicaments, unless they involve yatzee."

Hubert was treated with another blank, slightly irritated stare, until suddenly the face broke and a micro chuckle escaped the lips of the estranged Hoyden.

"Man, I guess you're alright. I mean I don't know what you're saying half the time, but that's all good bro." A fist was extended, and Hubert, an expert in the field of brotherly fist bumping, returned the gesture and brought it back to explode in an intense display of fanning fingers. "Yeah don't be doing that though."

"Really? I thought that was cool…" Hubert let his fist drop and walked into the small closet space, pulling out a pair of BDUs to throw on and a pair of standard boots. "You mean to tell me that the explosion is no longer in? I thought that was like the pinnacle of possible fist bump moves. Apparently, I have been misled."

Hoyden snorted and sat on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots, moving with frightening efficiency. If there was an Olympic standard to lace tying, Hubert concluded, Hoyden would be bringing home the gold. Or at least the silver. Hubert did not keep a record of shoe tiers.

"Nah it was never cool. But you know what is cool? Lemon wedges, and Hamlet. Those are my two favorite things in the world."

Hubert, though somewhat a humorist himself, was a bit taken aback by the normally standoffish Hoyden injecting some stellar hilarity into a conversation with a placatory ease. Hoyden smiled coyly and stood up with his fascinatingly tied boots and suave hair.

"What. You didn't think a guy like me could like lemon wedges did you? I'll admit that I am a bit hard around the edges, but inside lays the soul of a literary genius and a fine diner," Hoyden shrugged. "Actually, I'm not all too fond of lemon wedges, but for some reason that was what food item came out of my mouth. Sometimes I speak before my brain can figure out what I'm going to say…"

Hubert laced up his own boots, and although he lacked Hoydens efficiency and speed, he definitely had the presentation down, and he would have gotten extra points for style, had he been judging himself. After he had taken sensible time to take in this new information about his supposed brawny, muscular, pea-brained roommate, he stood.

"Not at all, Hoyden. In fact, I'm glad to have a roommate who will appreciate my nightly reading from Sophocles plays. Oedipus Rex is a favorite, and although I do not approve of his relationship with his mother, I will respect it. Especially since she kills herself."

"I love how you just don't even answer with anything relative to the conversation. How does that have anything to do with lemon wedges?" Hoyden walked toward the door, opening it and patiently waiting for his roommate. "Let's hurry up Creon. We don't want to be late and fail on the first day. Besides, I'm interested on how you're going to react to the Sergeant Major. Seeing as though you feel the need to respond to every word uttered with irrelevancy. I bet you'll be gone in two minutes…or dead. Or at least incapacitated."

Hubert followed his new friend out of the room and blinked with innocence. "I may appear to be a particularly dimwitted fellow. But I do have a sense of survival. I will stay out of the Sergeants way. I've heard about him. I've also heard about ninja. In the case that this rumor is true, I am going to join them. It has been my dream to be a ninja since I was six years old. And nothing will stand in my way."

"What about training? No offense, White, but you look like you couldn't even lift the sword, let alone stab someone with it. Besides, you're intelligence. So you should stay that way. Just trying to save you from an imminent death. By the way, talking to you is exhausting me. You sound like my English professor. Can you knock it off?"

Hubert nodded and walked with Hoyden down the hallway. Doors were opening, revealing more of the trainees, most of who appeared to be in a royally foul mood at the early hour. Or maybe their faces were just built with an angry display. Hubert considered pointing this out to his new friend but decided against it at the last minute. He did not want to exhaust anyone, especially not a friend. Hubert had a particularly difficult time making friends, and he had finally figured out that in order to keep the one he had made, he had to make some compromises. Even if that meant letting a brilliant retort grind away.

"By the way….how did you pass any requirements? No offense but you look a little…fail-ish?" Hoyden shrugged casually and pursed his lips. "I mean not that it's an awful thing to look fail-ish but they had standards of recruitment you know? I mean…I've worked my spectacularly shaped ass off for years and I barely made it. What makes you so special?"

Hubert smiled. What indeed. _What indeed_.

"I like math," Hubert said, unclimactic as it was, he would not pretend to be something he was not. He could, perhaps, have made mention that he was actually Spiderman and could walk up walls and shoot people with his flying webs of fury, but that would involve a very tangled lie, and it would probably not be believed. So Hubert stuck with the truth on this one, if for nothing else to keep his only new friend. "It's the same everywhere you go, and there's only one answer so no one can tell me I'm almost right. Cause I'm either wrong or right. I don't like being almost right, it seems insulting to my intelligence to be _almost_ right."

Hoyden nodded, and with the speed of a very lazy lion and the efficiency of a goat, tried to yank a water bottle from the package on the counter. "Why do they make these so hard to get to? I'm already going to have a rough morning can I _please_ get my water without any problems?" After a few moments of herculean wrestling, Hoyden pulled the water bottle out and then looked back at Hubert. "I believe that, I believe that you like math. You look like you like math."

"And you look like someone who has valiant battles with plastic wrapping around water bottles daily. You beat that covering in nearly a minute, which is much better than I could have done."

Hoyden gave him another pained look. "Listen, stay away from me during this PT alright? I have a feeling you're going to get in trouble and I don't want to be dragged down with you, literally or metaphorically."

"So I take that as a 'no' on reenacting the battle of the water packaging for the benefit of the Sergeant Major?

"I would take that as a 'I'm leaving right now. I'll see you later, if I have that bad of luck. Good bye.'" Hoyden walked away, falling behind some other trainees that all looked similar and grumpy. Hubert sighed. If he had any luck he would manage not to scare away any other friends. And if he had any luck, he would not get dragged down during PT, intentionally or otherwise. So, he joined in the ranks. Hubert White would not be made a fool of today. At least…not in the next five minutes. That was the standard no fool time zone.

Alright so I hope my OCs aren't Gary Stus! I just wanted to show the Joes through the perspective of a quirky and sometimes awkward greenshirts. Hope this turns out okay! Let me know if there are any spelling errors. There are bound to be some, and I apologize in advance for them! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: PT, Possible Trouble

**Thank you all for the reviews and advice! I'm glad this is enjoyable here is the next chapter, PT of course. This is my first GI Joe fic, in fact…it's my first story on fan fiction, but I've always written to myself before ;) What I'm saying is, please let me know if I don't get the characters right. I'm not sure if I've gotten the Sergeant Major Beach Head completely right in this, but I hope I have. Let me know otherwise and I hope you enjoy!**

**Also, I'm taking requests for Hubert's Joe name, because I got a good one and I was like…"Gee, I have no idea what his Joe name would be, and this is a good one, so I'm going to use it!" But I decided that if anyone else had an idea I'd like to hear that too! Thanks everyone!**

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"Look at all a' you!"

_And look at all of you, Sergeant Major._ Hubert had discovered, in a relatively short amount of time, that the Sergeant Major was not someone to be messed with. In fact, as a general rule, Hubert had decided that he would never irritate someone that could easily be the size of two Huberts put together, and the burly Sergeant Major could possibly be three Huberts. That was just way too many Huberts.

Hubert felt rather dwarfed in comparison, and that was not a feeling he was used too. Although lanky and generally unappealing to the public, Hubert had always been tall for his age. But apparently, his small home town was misleading. Apparently, there were giant men afoot that could kill him with a gentle poke to the chest.

"A 'right listen up maggots! I want you in proper order immediately so ah don't have ta go an organize ya all mahself! This ain't the third grade!" The decibel of sound was breath taking. How on earth could someone produce so much sound? Hubert was sure that the ground was trembling, or maybe it was just him. The rumors had been true, this man was scary, and Hubert had the best intentions. He would not open his mouth without being first spoken to _directly_. Hubert had a problem with answering any question in general, whether it be directed at him or not. His mouth, though it always seems to mean well, can be a bit of a problem.

The Sergeant Major was going down the roll call sheet, every now and then making a comment that mostly translated to 'why are you even here? You suck'. But Hubert kept his stunning cool, and kept his chin held high, only looking down once to notice that, _somehow, _in the time from his room to the course, his boot lace had come united. Now, it is true that Hubert had a very confusing and rather early morning, but he was very sure that he had tied his shoe in the correct fashion. But here the laces were, sprawled along the ground, hanging limp from their hold. How disgraceful.

"Boy! Somethin' interesting down there?" The loud boom was right near his ear, and Hubert straightened up faster than his mind could process what had been asked of him. Unfortunately, his automatic response system kicked in.

"No Sergeant Major Sir! I was just wondering if I should take the time to tie my shoes again or if you would get here before I had the chance too and…and obviously it has been the latter. I apologize for my lack of proper boot lacing…and I apologize for what I'm saying now…uhm…" Hubert trailed off when he realized he was treated by a very blank stare. Several, actually, some less blank than others. The Sergeant Major raised his eyebrows, the fabric around his face crinkling a little as he did so.

"You know what I'd like to apologize for, Hubert White?" Sergeant Major's voice was not loud and booming and instead sounded friendly and light. Hubert knew a storm was coming, but he decided to put his cards on the table. Maybe the Sergeant Major wasn't as bad as everyone said.

"No, I don't. What Sergeant Major sir?"

"…I'd like to apologize for the LACK of ARM MUSCLES you have. GET DOWN and you PUMP THEM OUT till I say you can STOP."

It was then that Hubert realized just how fast he could move when he needed too. He dropped to the ground and placed his hands in front of him, stunned by the fact that he was still here when everything in his natural instincts was telling him to run before he was eaten and digested. He felt strange, like the whole world had stopped around him. In his last regiment there had never been such an empty sound. But here, everyone was dead silent, except for the screaming of the Sergeant Major while he readied himself for the pushups.

"WHAT are you doing? I better see you on your knuckles FIVE SECONDS AGO. THE REST OF YOU! GET your sorry asses to the track and WARM UP!" Sergeant Major took a moment to look down at Hubert, who was, to his eternal credit, pushing up and down with his arms as fast as he could. "And you! Boy you'd better straighten out fast if you wanna stay here cause ah tell ya I ain't gonna deal with you if'n ya can't even tie you're damn boots right!"

Hubert pushed up again, wondering himself how his arms were still moving when he felt like they had fallen off after the first two pushups. Hubert had some muscle, contrary to his lackluster appearance. And what he lacked in muscle he gained in perseverance. He would do pushups for the Sergeant major until he managed to regain his status as a lowly maggot. Even if his arms did fall off.

"Maggot I want you doing those pushups until I decide you've gained some muscle, because dammit yew look like a grammaw! Do you have ANY questions?"

Hubert peeked up at the Sergeant Major and huffed out heavily, feeling his throat constricting already from the forced push-ups. Against his common sense, the uncomfortable tugging on his boot was driving him insane. He opened his mouth.

"Sergeant Major? May I tie my boot?"

"I told you you'd end up getting it good," Hoyden muttered, standing in line while waiting to be run through the obstacle course that looked an awful lot like a short cut to capital punishment to Hubert. In fact, Hubert's arms were still shaking. He had ended up doing pushups for a good fraction of time; most of it had been forgotten due to the pain in his arms and his ears.

"I did not get it good. I got it very badly. Don't insult me with your common use sarcasm," Hubert was in no mood for formalities now, seeing as he had gotten chewed out within the first five minutes of the day. But fortunately, he may have left somewhat of a good impression. The Sergeant Major had begrudgingly nodded after letting Hubert up, which Hubert could only take as a signal that he had regained his maggot status. This was not significant, seeing as he had started out that way. But at least he was no longer reduced to something lower than a buried dead insect.

"You call yourself a soldier, boy! Get movin I know ROADKILL that moves faster than you!"

Hubert looked over to the obstacle course, where the Sergeant Major was screaming at a short, buzzed head barreling through an open area, his plain clothing spotted with blue and yellow paintballs. Although the trainee was about the size of Hubert's left leg, he was build like a scale model of Hercules. Hubert huffed again, aggravated with his stunning lack of muscle. He knew, of course, that he had some. He had a range of theories as to why others thought he didn't and he came up with _1._ his body was so stretched out that to compensate his muscles had to redistribute so that he did not have muscular arms and stick legs or _2._ he has some sort of werewolf complex where his muscles only come out during the full moon.

Neither of these theories was very satisfying. His only hope was that somehow is mathematical skills would compensate for his spindly frame. Be that as it may, Hubert made it his goal to complete this obstacle course with flying colors, werewolf complex or not.

"Whoa…look at her," Hoyden was looking out of the corner of his eye, and Hubert turned his head to see what he was gazing at. A woman. A beautiful woman. With long red hair and a dangerous lurk in her eye. That woman….could beat his ass into the ground.

"I'd stay away from that," Hubert said, having experience in the field of 'women that are way out of his league'. "She probably isn't single and if she is…she wouldn't be interested in us…and if she were then she'd have poor taste and I would have to be appalled and decline."

Hoyden gave him a narrow eyed look and pursed his lips. "You're so strange…and I wasn't saying I was going to go after her per say, I was only acknowledging her presence. Never seen girls like her in basic you know?" Hoyden shrugged and looked back at the accumulating number of Joes in the stands. "What are they all doing here? They're making me nervous."

"How can you possibly expect yourself to do well in life when a few bystanders ruin your concentration?" Hubert smiled lightly, enjoying the feeling of having fewer nerves than someone else for a change. Unfortunately, the feeling was short-lived. When he looked back at the stands, his stomach nearly dropped into the floor, and then decided it was too cold and settled into his throat. "I guess watching us wash out is high amusement."

"Of course it is," a gruff voice behind Hubert made his cringe and he turned around, only to be face with air. He lowered his gaze by about two inches and was face to face with a red, puffy face. Apparently the man who had been running the course a few minutes before was now finished, and he looked angry. Hubert understood entirely, after all, he's never in a good mood after being shot by brightly colored balls of paint and after falling into pits of mud. "Even I find it amusing to watch people like you embarrass themselves. I'll be looking forward to your run."

"Lay off him, Martin." Hoyden straightened up and looked at him out of the corner of his dark Spanish eyes, looking ten times nastier than he had in the early morning, when Hubert had awoken him from his disastrous fall from the bed. "You don't look like you're the million dollar man either."

"Maybe not, but at least I'll keep my place here," Martin looked over and scanned the stands, looking from Joe to Joe until his eyes landed on a blonde haired women who looked like she belonged on the red carpet. "And I'll keep my place in _her,_ too."

Hubert repressed a snort, and his acclimation of distaste was met with two beady eyes and a growly voice from the action figure in front of him.

"What's that supposed to mean, skinny?"

"Well…first of all, calling me skinny isn't particularly a good insult because I _am_ skinny, and the most you have done is point out the obvious. Secondly, Martin, you need to learn your place. That girl is a ten. You are not a ten…well at least I can't imagine you would be you're the size of a gnome and you have the facial structure of a brain dead manatee. Thirdly…I don't have a thirdly. And I don't think I need one. I've made my point just fine." Hoyden blinked and then smiled, nodding his head that Hubert could only interpret as agreement.

Martin's face grew even redder and he poked one meaty finger into Hubert's chest. "Listen you pathetic excuse for life you'd better hope you-"

"White! Hoyden! Get yer asses movin! On the course!"

For the first time, Hubert was happy to hear the Sergeant Major screaming his name at the top of his lungs. Though he had no problems with speaking his mind, he did have a problem with physically fighting with his fists, considering his fists were rather slow and unharmful, he had no doubt that he would have lost. He took the opportunity to break away from Martin and trot to the starting line, taking a second to check his shoe laces. Hubert would not be ruined by inefficient laces again.

"You've got yer damn shoes tied now Chatty Kathy?" Sergeant Major looked particularly unamused, and Hubert would not make it any worse by running his mouth again.

"I do, Sergeant Major Sir!"

"Good. Now MOVE."

Hubert moved. God he moved. He moved faster than he thought he would. He reached the first wall, quickly realizing it was about a ten foot tall wall and he had about 20 feet until he reached the base of it. If he jumped when he was five feet away, he would be able to grab an upper portion of the rope and easily roll himself over the top. When the time came, he jumped, his long legs for once giving him an advantage in. He made the wall easily without too much effort, and he looked over his shoulder briefly to see Hoyden climbing the rope from the base, only a second behind him. His ability with real life math had seemed to help him before. Sometimes he could see it in his mind, calculating was something that came easily to him. Unfortunately, that was all he could calculate in this course. He had yet to find a way to use logarithms to doge paintballs or trigonometry to speed up his rope climb. In fact, jumping distances was about all that could be helped. Regardless, Hubert would take that help.

"Stop lookin' over yer shoulder and MOVE! Dammit how do ah managed to get stuck with you people ain't there NO ONE better in basic?"

Hubert huffed and reached a roped obstacle. Now, here is where his weaknesses came into play. Hubert had very little balance, so he elected to hang on to the underside of the rope and scoot his way across as fast as he could, and then there was nothing. Hubert had gone onto auto pilot, getting through the obstacles as easily as he could, though at some point Hoyden had managed to pull ahead of him. This most likely had something to do with his pace slowing down as a fat turtle's would.

"YOU'RE LOSING TIME BOY!"

_I didn't know time was something I could lose_, Hubert thought as he barreled through the open area, wincing as his thigh got splattered by a bright ball of paint and his shoulder was shot with another one, throwing him slightly off balance before he was able to get back on track again. When he crossed the finish line, five seconds after Hoyden, he was fairly sure that he was dead. He must be, because there was no way that he had managed to get through that without dying.

"How you doin there, White?"

"Great, Sergeant Major, Sir!" Hubert put his hands on his knees for a brief second before stand up straight again, panting like a hot dog in the summertime.

"You think you can breathe?"

"I think so, Sergeant Major, sir."

"Good. Because you are going to RUN THAT COURSE AGAIN UNTIL YOU DO IT IN THE APPROPRIATE TIME!"

"…yes, Sergeant Major sir!"

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**This was kinda just an introductory to PT and Sergeant Major Beach ;) which there will be more of in the next chapter, and definitely more Joes in the next chapter. I hope this is being enjoyed In the next chapter there will be more PT, Beach kicking a certain new trainees butt into next week, the greenshirt naming time :D and of course some ninjas in and hand to hand. Thanks for reading! OH…and anyone who can offer insight on how the greenshirts actually…receive their names? I'm not sure I remember exactly and I'd hate to get it wrong! Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3: The meaning of breakfast

**Thanks for the reviews again everyone! In this chapter I have a bit more of Hoyden and Hubert just talking, getting a feel for one another. Regarding Hoyden's ideas, I see him as a bit of a philosophist, and I think its interesting to have someone with those ideals in an army fighting for something so important yet sometimes intangible.**

**Also, Snake Eyes and Scarlet. I always saw Snake Eyes as a guy with a sense of humor, and I know he's portrayed that way in a lot of other stories, so he'll be that way here. Scarlet as always, fierce and amazing. Let me know if something is wrong with their characterization. I always try to be cautious when writing the actual characters for fear of being way of base.**

**And thanks to Totenkinder Madchen for Hubert's code name. I like the name, it fits him so well**

**Anyway, enjoy! Next chapter will be hand to hand, which I am _so sure _Hubert will excel in.**

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"How do you feel?"

"A lot like a cracked jelly bean in between the car seats in a baby blue sedan with a car seat and soccer shoes in the back seat."

Hoyden frowned, spearing a piece of egg with a butter knife and racing it to his open mouth before the egg slipped off again. Apparently, Hoyden possessed the forethought of a five year old child and consequently, he had forgotten that in order to eat appropriately scrambled eggs, he would need a fork. When Hubert had helpfully pointed this out, Hoyden just shook his head, explaining that he'd have to move to get a fork, which was not an option after Beach Head's capital punishment obstacle course. Hubert had no choice but to agree, because he was fairly certain that any sudden muscle movement would cause a tremor in his bicep which would cause a cataclysmic reaction of egg related accidents. Hubert could see it now, his piece of scrambled egg hurtling through the air, perhaps landing in someone's hair, or waiting patiently on the floor for someone to slip on. Hubert would not be responsible for egg-induced trauma.

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that," Hoyden took a sip of his orange juice container. "But I'm kinda thinkin' I agree. Because I can't imagine being a cracked jellybean would feel very nice. I don't feel very nice."

"Cracked jellybeans live lives of desperation and depression, a state of constant exhaustion. Speaking of desperation, thank you for sort of having my back earlier with the manatee. I mean you didn't really have my back, it was more like you were offering him a choice, but that was more than anyone else did so I think proper thanks are in order." Hubert slowly lifted his fork to his face to avoid exertion and finally finished his breakfast. After having to run the course about five more times than anyone else had, he had found that there was a lack of hot water in his shower, and Hubert had a thing about cold showers. In fact, his shower experience had not been as pleasant as he had hoped. The shower head was about an inch shorter than he was, due to him being placed in the older barracks. Having to bend down to enjoy the full capacity of his shower had vastly diminished the experience. Therefore, he was one of the last trainees to get to the diner hall. He was still slouched in the far table with Hoyden, but now some senior members had started to filter in, being finished with their own PT.

"I wasn't sticking up for you, I was covering my ass." Hoyden leaned back in his chair, sticking his hands into the pockets on his thighs. "I'm rooming with you. That means if you're a social pariah, I become one by association. I have to make you seem tough and cool if I even have a chance of not getting my ass kicked every time I walk around the corner."

"You make this sound like my preschool, Hoyden. Though I appreciate traveling to the past as much as the next person, preschool is not on the top of the list. I prefer the year when I snuck into the girls' locker room for a dare during swim practice….maybe I can prevent myself from acquiring that black eye I got from Becky Thatcher…she threw a good punch you know."

"Do you hear yourself?" Hoyden shook his head in exasperation and raised his hands. "No man, see you don't get it! The whole damn world is like a preschool. Kid with the best new power ranger is the boy who gets the most friends to play tag with during recess. Girl who kisses up to teacher gets the most apples at snack time. Dude, I refuse to be the boy with lice and headgear at the end table….which I am right now!" Hoyden sunk his head into his hands. "Man, I'm at the end table."

"Did they give headgear to kids in preschool?" Hubert sipped his juice and shook his head. "You may be at the end table, but you have no headgear. And I hope you don't have lice, because those spread rather quickly and I fear that we will all be submerged under the tiny fists of those creatures should someone contract them. Also, you are not alone. I am sitting right across from you. So you've already beat this ridiculously mis-fitted caste of a preschooler you put yourself into."

Hoyden rolled his eyes and righted his chair as a sergeant walked past. "I didn't make the casts man. The world did. It's the society we live in. We measure success by materialistic things, and we judge people within the first ten seconds we see them! Here, I'll show you." Hoyden sipped his drink, his sharp eyes jolting around the crowd before resting back on Hubert. "Alright, the girl over there? Short hair, brunette? She looks gentle enough, friendly. Guess I could like here, but she seems more like the girl next store type. I've already ruled her out. Guy next to her? In charge kinda guy, looks like someone who wouldn't tolerate any funny business...looks like someone who wouldn't be very fun to hang around unless you go way back…or something like that. Anyway not interested in him either. But look, guys in the far corner over there? Laughing, playing cards. Those look like cool people; I think I'd rather hang out with them. Dude I don't know any of them at all and I already know who I don't want to talk to and who I do want to talk to."

"All you've shown me is your admittedly impressive skill of pointing out the obvious and monologuing for a long amount of time on a topic that I would rather not be talking about." Hubert looked over his shoulder anyway, taking a moment to pick out the people Hoyden was talking about. The girl-woman, more appropriately, that Hubert had heard was Lady Jaye- did indeed look like the girl next store. Pretty, but not devastatingly so. Sweet looking. Hubert could have drawn that conclusion on his own. He looked around the rest of the room, panning over the other people that had been previously mentioned.

"I'm proving my point. You are being judged RIGHT NOW, and let me tell you, there isn't much to judge. You look…unimpressionable. And here, that's a bad thing. You don't want to be unimpressionable."

Hubert sighed and looked back at Hoyden. He had to admit, he had never considered himself unimpressionable. He had considered that he was possibly not the most attractive male on the calendar, but unimpressionable? Unimpressionable. "I am _not_ unimpressionable. I'm 6'5. I _cannot_ just be unimpressionable. I walk into the room and people notice me as if I were green instead of just tall. How could you call me unimpressionable?"

"Oh jeez what are you, a teenage girl? I didn't mean it like that…I meant…well, look around you! LOOK! There is a man over there whose shoulders look like extra heads. And I mean the drill sergeant had a voice like a fog horn. And well…you're just…unimpressionable."

"See, I don't think you are completely grasping the concept of unimpressionable. Hoyden, a red button among a sea of red buttons is unimpressionable because when people see it, nothing stands out. I am not unimpressionable!"

Hoyden shook his head, spearing another egg with his knife. "Alright, will it make you feel better if I say you leave a negative impression instead?"

"Marginally. At least I am being noticed."

"Man, that isn't important! I mean look at it this way. How do you know you're being noticed? People judge things based on their own personal experiences. Like I just did! I called you unimpressionable because you don't fit into my idea of extraordinary, or interesting. No offence, I was just making a point. But…why did I even bring this up?"

"You were explaining to me why you had to make me look impressionable. I think. You know, for someone who has spent half of the time we have spent together complaining about my wordiness, you talk an exceedingly large amount of the time spent. I am only trying to digest my food before I am thrown to the lions in hand to hand, and you are spouting some psychological existentialism philosophies at me."

"Right," Hoyden said, choosing to ignore the better half of the conversation. "Association. I guess that was my point. Sorry I guess I got off topic. I like this topic…heavy stuff man. What's the meaning of life, do we really understand each other, and do we really have free will?"

Hubert sighed. It was his luck he would get stuck with some conspiracy theory-making, philosophical roommate. He supposed this was the world's way at getting back at him for being the wayward roommate himself for years. Secretly, he was glad. He was more partial to philosophy than he was to being swirled in the toilet. In the back of his head, he knew he was not the one to complain. He was just as bad.

"The meaning of life is to live, we do understand each other or else I would not be able to answer this question, and we are both from America and are in a base in New York…we most definitely have free will."

Hoyden gave him a look Hubert had seen before, the look he got when he was talking about something that others found completely uninteresting. "Those were rhetorical questions. You weren't supposed to answer those."

"And yet, here we are, questions answered and completely out of juice." Hubert shook his small container. "You know, this is an extremely pathetic container of juice. I barely tip it up and it's gone. How do they expect me to fight adequately when my juice reservoirs are so dry?" Hubert made a toss into the trashcan, only to have his carton miss by several inches and fall to the floor with a pathetic empty sound. Of course, Hubert had theories as to why his aim was so incredibly off. The first was that he was actually born as the result of his mother's very drunk fornification with a possum, and therefore had the depth perception equivalent of that to his rodent father. However, this idea was dampened by the fact that he was not furry, and he had no tail, so that theory was out. His second theory was that his aim was just that, bad. There need not be a reason behind it, he decided. He had his strengths and weaknesses. Aiming and pogo sticking are among the latter.

Hubert was about to rise from his seat to collect his fallen trash when someone beat him to it. A masked man reached down and tossed the carton into the trash and straighten to stare at Hubert, who had frozen in a position that was a cross breed of sitting and standing. Hubert stared into the gleaming visor and slowly sat back down, before realizing that the masked carton saver was a sergeant. In his scramble to stand back up, his chair was tipped from behind him and fell to the floor in a loud clatter.

"Sir! Um…thank you for throwing away my juice carton. Just so you know, I had no intentions of leaving it there. I like my workplace clean and un-littered as much as the next guy. After all, when in an unclean environment one can start to…" Hubert paused and swallowed, noticing that the man was not moving, or doing much of anything except staring at him.

"Sir? Are you a ninja?"

The man's hands suddenly moved, swift and lucid motions that Hubert recognized as sign language. As an avid member of boy scouts, Hubert had once learned the alphabet, and even got good enough to be able to spell out 'hello' in less than five seconds. But this, this was advanced stuff, and Hubert felt particularly confused, more so than usual. He waited until the sergeant finished signing before speaking up. After all, Hubert was not an interrupter, silent conversation or not.

"I'm extremely sorry, sir, but my sign language is limited to the letters H, E, L, and O…also, I know how to say taco because I once went to a taco bell and witnessed a deaf man ordering a taco."

The man only stared again, but this time with a slightly turned head, and Hubert got the feeling that he had either greatly confused the sergeant or he had angered him in some way, and Hubert was about to become chopped fresh meat.

"He said that he appreciates your devotion to cleanliness; however you aim will need some work if you plan on actually being able to be on the field." Hubert turned around to face the red headed woman from the sidelines. When he had turned, he also realized that Hoyden was gone. The yellow bellied existentialist left him somewhere between his ill fated carton toss and his explanation of his knowledge in the sign of taco. He looked back to the woman. "I'm Sergeant Scarlet, and this is Sergeant Snake Eyes. I advise you to expand your sign vocabulary, because you will need to be able to communicate, and I can't remember a time when taco has come up in urgent conversation." There was another flurry of sign, and Sergeant Scarlet smiled slightly; a gentle quirk to the right side of her face. "Actually, he says that if he ever does need a taco, he will take the time to locate you and ask you personally."

"I will most certainly do so Ma'am. And Sir, if you ever need a taco, I can definitely supply you with one, provided I have access to a kitchen with taco making materials…" Hubert rubbed the back of his neck. "Was there…anything else I could help you with, Sir and Ma'am?"

"Yes, actually. We are here to hand out your temporary code name until you are issued an official one at the end of the washout period." Sergeant Scarlet handed Hubert a small piece of paper with his name and information and a bolded code name at the top. Hubert rose his eyebrows.

"Non sequitur?" Hubert straightened and nodded, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket. "Thank you, I shall bear the name with honesty and pride. Consequently, did you know that a cat named Dusty has the known record for the most kittens? She had more than 420 kittens in her lifetime. I will not pretend to be an expert on cats, but I think that is an abnormally large amount of children." Hubert paused at the blank stare and slow headshake he was getting. "Sorry, Ma'am and Sir. I was only trying to live up to the name, so I can bear it with honor."

"I suggest you go and get ready," Sergeant Scarlet turned away, and Sergeant Snake Eyes followed her, signing quickly with a grace that Hubert associated with someone who knew how to sign. "As for ninja? You'll find out in about an hour. Stock up on Tylenol."

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**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed**!


	4. Chapter 4: Hubert is crushed Literally

Confession time.

I am not a ninja guys. Not even a little bit. I once tried to pretend I was one and I ended up getting flicked in the arm with a pencil by someone trying to prove otherwise. Ninjas do not allow themselves to be poked with pencils. Therefore I must not be one.

The point of this confession is to tell you that I have very little knowledge of fighting moves, street or organized or otherwise. If anyone has any information on these things, please let me know! I'd love to learn, and it would be helpful for future chapters. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy otherwise!

Also, I have recently discovered that you can reply to reviews. I DID NOT KNOW THAT! That's exciting. I will start replying to every review, because it makes me happy when I get replies to my reviews. It makes me feel acknowledged. AND I want all of you guys to feel acknowledged. I may not know who you are, what you do, are what you stand for, BUT I APPRECIATE YOU!

Thank you for waiting and I hope you enjoy!

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Hubert had the distinct feeling of being underwhelmingly incompetent as soon as he stepped into the Dojo. In fact, the only interaction Hubert had ever had with a Dojo was while he was playing his Spyro game, and he was assigned the task of capturing the escaped dragon flies because an evil force had frolicked within the dragon dojo and set all the said dragon flies free. If this were a dragon dojo, and he was supposed to be capturing dragon flies with his bubble breath, then maybe he would survive this ordeal.

However, he severely doubted this would be the case.

"I think this is what walking to the gallows must feel like," he said to Hoyden as he stepped onto the rubbery and firm mats. "In the probable event of my death, I leave the other half of our shared room to you. Treat it kindly."

Hoyden gave him a tired look and stretched out one arm across his chest, and then the other. "Well, thanks I guess. I'll do my best to not tarnish your half. And you wont die, you'll be near death. Slight difference…although for you I'm afraid they may misjudge your limits."

"My limits are unreachable."

Hoyden scoffed. "I bet they are dude. Anyway you've had some hand to hand training right? I mean, this is beginners. How hard can beginners be? Not very."

"Hoyden, if you are going to ask me a question, you have to give me time to answer it. There was a bit less that a nano second pause between your question and answer. I do have a quick reaction time, but I'm not nano second fast," Hubert looked over the other people in the dojo, which consisted of many of the fellow trainees that he had gone through PT with, including the short manatee man who had attempted to start an altercation. "But if you are still interested, my answer would have been very. Because I am assuming that 'beginners', according to highly trained ninja, is approximately 'death' in my translation."

Hubert spotted Sergeant Scarlett and Sergeant Snake Eyes at the front of the herd of people, engaged in deep conversation that Hubert could not read. He figured that was probably best; if he were to die of premature heart attack from finding out that they were planning to twist his legs into a bow, he would never forgive himself. Even death could not relieve anyone from The Great Grudge Of Hubert, something he normally referred to as TGGOH. This acronym was not helpful in the least, because only he understood its meaning, and acronyms are created to make lengthy phrases manageable for all people.

However, the next person was someone he did not recognize. The man was dressed in white, and everything about him appeared smooth. Smooth hair, smooth looks, smooth gaze, and smooth swords on a sheath on his back. Hubert associated smooth with dangerous, because like most things in life, such as paper and hot coffee, look smooth right before they slice your skin or burn your lap. This man looked smooth, and Hubert had a feeling he was going to very shortly be pounding him into the ground like a whack-a-mole. Speaking of which, Hubert rarely won those games. There were far too many moles to make sense. How could that many moles live in that small of a tunnel system? It would be overcrowding, and Hubert did not accept games that did not make sense, especially due to overcrowding.

"You are all here…" Sergeant Scarlett started, immediately hushing the entire room. Hubert suddenly felt awkwardly tall, like ha always did in a silent crowd. Something about people paying attention made him nervous. "You are all here because _someone_ has decided that you are the best of the best. My name is Scarlett and this is Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow," she said, pointing to each other the very smooth and lethal looking men on her sides. "We will be taking care of your hand to hand training for as long as you manage to stay in this program."

Hubert looked around him and realized that there was a significantly smaller amount of people in here than there had been earlier in the morning. It was possible that that they had been placed in a higher hand to hand class, but it was also possible that they had washed out. Hubert would not blame them, if the latter turned to be true. The only reason he himself had not quit was because his body hurt too much to be able to get up and walk down to the office to file the forms.

That, and the fact that he was determined to last a minimum of two days and three hours.

Sergeant Scarlett began going down the roll call, calling codenames if they had been previously assigned. Apparently Hubert had been one of the few people who had already received their codenames, and he wasn't sure if that was positive or negative. At any rate, it meant he had left an impression, and he gave Hoyden a very smug look. Unfortunately, Hoyden was no longer paying attention to him. He had his eyes trained on the three Sergeants in front of him and Hubert realized that he should probably be doing the same, lest he become a less than stellar student.

"Non Sequitur?"

"Yes Ma'am." Hubert saluted in the correct fashion, and settled into an appropriate at attention stance. "Did you know that Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants?"

"I did not know that, thank you for sharing that completely irrelevant piece of information. I see you were not kidding when you said you would answer your codename with a useless factoid." Sergeant Scarlett studied him for a moment before moving on to the next person. However, the white-wearing smooth man was staring at him, with one raised eyebrow and a very skeptical look. Hubert was half excepting him to yell at him in a loud obtrusive volume like the Sergeant Major, but Sergeant Storm Shadow simply shook his head.

"Do they expect all ducks to wear pants in Finland? I do believe that could be qualified as discrimination. Donald Duck is one duck in the span of billions of ducks." Sergeant Storm Shadow continued to stare at Hubert, and Hubert felt himself taken aback, a feeling that is not normally experienced in his life. Hubert lives his life expecting strange things to happen, but this time, he was expecting something more in the range of death.

"Uh…well, sir, I can't speak for the entire country of Finland because I'm not Finnish, nor do I know any Finnish people. But I think it is because the duck in question wears a shirt, yet no pants. Whereas normal ducks wear neither shirt nor pants."

Sergeant Storm Shadow smiled and nodded, and Hubert relaxed a little. He had found that normally, if he was able to make a person smile or laugh, he would be safe from any emotional or physical pain that person was capable of inducing.

"I think you'll be up first," Sergeant Storm Shadow said with a terrifying smirk.

Well, it wasn't the first time Hubert had been wrong.

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Hubert was not sure if he would be able to make it out of the dojo.

He had a few options. He could collapse right here, and possible receive medical attention. He could collapse in the hallway, but that would receive much unwanted attention. Truthfully, all he wanted to do was to collapse on a bed in private where no one would be able to die in peace.

"You all have a lot of work to do," Sergeant Scarlett said, translating for the fluid motion of hand signs from Sergeant Snake Eyes. "But you all have a few basics down and it was a good start. Report to the main hall for further assignments. You are dismissed."

Hubert resisted saying that just because he was dismissed, did not mean he would be able to move or leave. He stayed where he was, standing as still as he possibly could to avoid jarring the surely detached organs within his body.

"We should leave before they think were offering to stay behind for extra practice…" Hoyden rubbed the back of his head gingerly, pulling his fingers away as if he were checking for blood. Hubert smiled lightly. He had figured out one thing while he was being beaten into the floor. Sergeant Storm Shadow was holding back significantly. He knew _exactly_ how hard he needed to throw Hubert into the mats to avoid breaking anything important. Even so, Hubert still felt as though he had been run over by a frantic herd of elephants escaping a pack of vicious lions.

Somehow, Hubert willed his aching body to move, leaving behind the dojo and the three top martial artists to discuss the abundant failures of the group. Hubert could only expect to be notified of his certain discharge by the end of the day. He did not pretend to have physical prowess, although he did make an honest attempt at learning. Ever since he had been a child, his parents had expressed the importance of learning. Life will not grade you, his father had always told him, you need to do your best to learn knowledge on your own and do your best at your work, because no one will come find you and rate your work on an A to F scale.

Hubert had proved this wrong on two occasions. His first job involved working as a janitor at a local fast-food joint, and his manager had repeatedly told him he needed to step up his janitorial duties to an A grade, because his C work was unsatisfactory. The second occasion was a grade bestowed upon him by an old girlfriend for reasons he would rather not mention. Apparently, C was his constant.

The main point being that Hubert liked to learn. So he did. He learned things on his own or in groups. It didn't really matter what it was, he just had to grab the knowledge as long as it was out there. By the time he was in middle school he had acquired an extremely large bank of totally unimportant and insignificant facts. For a long time, he had been under the impression that others liked to learn as much as he did. He soon figured out that he _was_ the only one, and that he was likely to be beaten up if he mentions exactly how many ketchup bottles were produced a year to anyone. Regardless, he pursued his quest. He would learn as much as he could, no matter what the cost. He had learned three new moves today already, and though he was far from executing any of them, he was close to understanding them.

"Wow, I think it's been like five minutes since I've heard you annoying voice," Hoyden said as he closed the door to the barrack, looking around the plain room before falling down onto his bed. "Oh my god this feels so…so good."

Hubert sighed and sat on his own bed, electing to move down slowly instead of shocking his body with sudden motion. "Well I think even my vocal chords have been shocked into paralysis. You are graced with silence until they regain the ability to vibrate, at which point I will literally make your ears bleed with my stunning repartee and endless flow of amusing facts."

"As exciting as that sounds, I think all pass. I'm going to sleep until I have to get up again…which will be in about," Hoyden lifted his head up to look at the digital clock on the night table. "…about ten minutes. That's ten minutes of good, hard earned sleep."

And for those ten minutes, Hubert had the deepest sleep he had ever had. Well, as deep as he could get with only ten minutes. After all, he had to remind himself that although it could feel like you had slept for a long time, he had only slept for a short amount of time and that he had not actually passed the initial stage of sleep.

Nevertheless, it was a nice sleep.

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More Ninja in the next chapter, as well as FINALLY some Cover Girl kicking action on the short stoacky manatee greenie ;) I know this chapter was a bit short, but I'll make it up in the next one. I'm just trying to get past Hubert's first day. It seems logical that for him it would pass by in a painful and stressful blur ;) Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: Cobra Commander name crisis

**Whoa. So sorry for the Update That Took Forever. I really have no good excuse. However, I do have several bad excuses. One of which being I procrastinated for months and now I have a yearly report due in two months. That has eaten up quite a bit of time. Another excuse is a Dinosaur at my chapter. It happens.**

**ANYWAY. Here's the next chapter. Just more of Hubert meeting people, and another insight on why he could be helpful to the Joe team.**

**Also, I am interested in finding a Beta reader, because I tend to make little mistakes when I write that I don't catch because I made them in the first place…anyway, you know what I mean. So if anyone is interested? That would be cool. Or if someone could direct me where to find a good one or where to get one in general.**

**By the way, just putting this out, most of my depiction of the Joes comes from other people's fictions. Most of BeachHead's portrayal comes from Willwrite4fics, and most of the ninja's comes from Karama9. Future portrayals come from other authors and if I miss credit anywhere that you believe should be given, that was not my intention and I will fix it instantly Enjoy!**

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"You know what confuses me the most?"

Hubert laced up his boots as Hoyden sighed, still lying on his bed like half of a beached whale. The other half would have been most likely bitten off by some large sea creature such as a shark or a particularly veracious octopus, because it seems like an astonishing waste of food to let a dead whale go uneaten. Sharks and octopi must have a difficult enough time searching for food. Hubert decided that although whale rights activists may stab him, sharks need some love too.

"No, Hubert, I don't. Please, tell me what confuses you the most?"

Hubert ignored the obvious sarcasm in Hoyden's voice and finished lacing his boot before standing up and then sitting abruptly back down at the sudden protest of his body. Apparently, his body did not appreciate the physical abuse it had undergone so far, and was rioting in the form of immobility.

"Well, the Cobra Commander's name. That's what bugs me. Because if his name is in that order, then it implies that he is a commander of cobras. But as far as I'm concerned, we are not going into battle with cobras. See, if his name were Commander Cobra, at least he would be a Commander who's only connection to snakes was his name: Cobra. Well that and the whole…speech problem. What is that anyway, like some sort of severe lisp?"

"I hope you realize that I don't really listen to you."

Hubert sighed and thumped the pal oh his hand on Hoyden's bunk. "Stop being such a marmalade pie and get down here. We've got to get to the main hall for further assignments, or we will be tied to a flag pole and mutilated with cans of silly string."

"No one said we were going to be tied to flag poles and sprayed with silly string." Regardless, Hubert heard the creak of springs as Hoyden crawled down from the bunk, sitting on Hubert's bed and reaching for his boots. "I think that would fit under cruel and unusual punishment."

"Hardly. Unusual, maybe. But cruel? Silly string is delightful, Hoyden. I would rather it be that then another run around that track or another face plant into the mats."

"Right. Well…I'm going to go now. By all means, keep talking." Hoyden got up and opened the door. "And by the way, the government only put that 'cruel and unusual' clause in to mollify the public. We don't know half of what's really going on."

"You're in one of the government's secrets right now, you know?"

"Of course I know, I'm seeking the truth and bettering myself and saving people, all at once."

Hubert nodded, finally learning how to engage Hoyden into some interesting conversation. He seemed to have righteous political outrage with slight philosophy undertones. In other words, one day Hubert was sure Hoyden would end up preaching to a group of trashcans on South Avenue due to a bout of schizophrenia.

"You have issues with our government don't you?"

"I have issues with every government."

"So you're an anarchist?"

"Of course not. I'm not offering a solution, I'm just pointing out a problem. Hey, I'd rather live here than in Uganda or Brazil or something. But nothing is perfect."

Hubert nodded, following Hoyden as he walked out of the room and locked the door behind them. "So in the event of a corporate takeover, you would, like, evacuate to Canada? Of course, you may be cold there. Maybe you'd prefer something tropical like Hawaii…but Hawaii is still the US. You know, maybe it's far enough away though. You could find like a four foot wide island and hang out there right?"

Hoyden blinked. "I am not discussing the aftermath of a corporate takeover with you, Hubert. Because it has already happened."

Hubert laughed before he could help himself and then held his hands up in defense. "Okay, it's happened. Yes. I agree. Let's go stab a sheep and drain its blood into the open mouth of a shriveled lizard."

"I can't even follow the conversation when you are in it."

"That is because I am a stealth master, able to loose people even in the thick of the language."

"Uh-huh."

Hubert stopped to look at the scheduled sheet in front of him. According to this blue sheet, he was due for an interview approximately thirty seconds ago. In a room with which he had very little knowledge about. He waved Hoyden off and turned down one hallway, hoping to Buddha, Vishnu, Jesus, and Allah that he was going in the right direction.

Unfortunately, he could not seem to locate the room. In his interview, in the event that he made it there eventually, he would point out that it would be helpful to have colorful signs pointing in the proper directions, such as one would expect for a garage sale or Disney land.

Hubert approached two boys in a heated argument, although perhaps heated would not be the correct word to use. It was more like a volcanic argument, and Hubert was sure it would escalate to physical violence should he not intervene.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I am lost. And late. And I would appreciate it if one of you, or both, could direct me to the place at which I am supposed to be, and/or a snack machine, because I could really go for some Famous Amos cookies. I will share, of course, because I reward kindness with cookies. Good motivator, no?" Hubert waited for a reply, but the two men had stopped talking altogether, and now the both stared at him as if he had just given birth to some large cephlopodous creature. Hubert saw one of the boys had an eye patch. "You have an eye patch."

"…I'm aware. Thank you for pointing that out to me, because otherwise I may have gone my entire life without realizing-"

"Knock it off, he's new."

The eye patch boy gave the other one a slightly peeved look. "Yes. And I was thanking him. Politely. Now," he grabbed the blue paper from Hubert's hand and blinked. "This is the entire schedule…which one are you?" He looked up at the top to see the ripped corner. "Did you really take the entire schedule off the board?"

Hubert blinked. In his sudden panic, it hadn't occurred to him that the schedule was not his and that he should not have removed it from the board. Perhaps that is why Hoyden had looked particularly confused when Hubert had taken off. Well, now he was not only responsible for his own tardiness, but now everyone else's.

"Yes. I did. Because I think it's a good exercise for people to have to find the schedule. It's like Where's Waldo. You sharpen your mind and your leg muscles."

"…I don't think it's anything like Where's Waldo."

Hubert honestly had no response to that. Normally people didn't question his strange explanations, and on the rare occasion that someone did, he was often at a loss of words. The other boy took the schedule and looked over it and then looked back at Hubert.

"I remember you. The one who couldn't punch the punching bag?"

Hubert scoffed. "Hardly. I was practicing a fake out. I purposely avoided the punching bag in order to lull it into a sense of false security, and then I was going to strike."

"Uh-huh, okay. Well. Anyway you're room is down that way. You're late by the way." The boy handed back the blue schedule and Hubert grabbed it, peering over the paper with a new degree of interest. Hoyden was supposed to be in flight training. That was a must see attraction.

"I know that, which is why I have the entire schedule with me. By the way, who are you?"

"I'm Kamakura, this is Billy," Kamakura said, motioning to the boy with the eye patch, who frowned in response.

"I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself, you know. I have fully functioning vocal cords."

"Oh trust me, I know that."

"Well," Hubert interrupted, realizing that if these two were Kamakura and Billy, then they were ninja apprentices, and he should not chance an altercation with them. He did not think that his punching bag strategy would go over so well with them. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Kamakura as in the time period and Billy as in the goat, yes?"

"…Yes." Billy's expression had shifted from angry to annoyed to slightly confused.

"Delightful. I am Hubert. I would love to stay and make conversation, but as Kamakura so delicately pointed out, I am late. For an interview. With the sergeant Major, so…I will leave now."

"Well…alright. Put that schedule back up on the board." Kamakura took the schedule from Hubert and shook his head. "On second thought, I'll do it. You don't want to be any more late than you already are."

"He'll also shine your boots and wax your back while he's at it," Billy said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as Hubert abruptly fled the scene in fear of a sudden ninja apocalypse as the words escalated into somewhat of a disorderly smack down that reminded Hubert of two platypi fighting over an ostrich egg, except this time there were no platypi and no ostrich egg, so it was really nothing like that at all. Perhaps the only similarity was the fact that you should not get in the middle of a platypus fight, just as you should not get in the middle of a ninja fight. Besides, he had gotten the information he needed.

"You're late." The Sergeant Major looked up from the paper work on his desk and immediately brought his hand up to his forehead to rub his temples. "Oh god dammit…Just sit down."

So Hubert sat in the chair, twiddling his thumbs, literally. He found that it was a great way to focus his twitchy energy. He was never very agile and coordinated, and Hubert would like to believe that while twiddling his thumbs, he would improve his ability to maneuver his thumbs around each other so they would no longer collide like two drunk high-schoolers.

"So."

Hubert looked up and stopped twiddling.

"You've passed the weapons training with a near perfect score…but half of them were thicker than ya. What's the deal there?"

"Well," Hubert leaned forward on the desk, and then pulled back when BeachHead frowned at him. Hubert should have realized that elbows, just like on the dinner table, were not welcome on the Sergeant Major's desk. He sat up straighter. "It's really simple math. You know, projectile motion." Hubert made an arc with his arm and BeachHead blinked at him.

"You me to tell me you were doin complicated equations in yer head while those targets were popping up all over the place?"

"Yes, I did mean to tell you that…but you already came to that conclusion on your own so I won't tell you what you already know." Hubert fidgeted uncomfortably under the stare of the Sergeant Major. "Um, well you know it's not to hard. I memorized the force behind the initial boot of each gun and then I estimate the distance between myself and the target and then I find the angle needed and that will normally get me close enough to the target, and in some cases, spot on."

"Uh-huh. Well ah guess you could do it that way. Or you could just learn ta, you know, shoot the gun. But as long as yer hittin the targets…" BeachHead rubbed his forehead again and looked down at his paper. "Say's here that yer CO recommended you for a spot here because you have the ability to 'kill a man without being in the same country?'"

"Well, I suppose what he meant to say is that when I was a child, I spent most of the day dreaming about ways to kill my Spanish teacher."

"…What?"

Hubert sighed, trying to find the best way to explain his talents and why he would be a good addition, but found no reasonable explanation. Most often in these situations, he would just say what would come to mind. Hubert knew, however, that this was a time to use more tact.

"Well, Sergeant Major, I'm a particularly imaginative guy. I can figure out ways to get to people, sure. I can come up with a design for a projector that fires bullets based on an isomer tag, sure. I can build these deadly inventions if given the materials, sure. But I cannot execute the plans myself. Because as you may have noticed, I was defeated by a punching bag earlier today. But I passed basic. It probably says that on the uh…paper you got there."

BeachHead sighed. "Figures we'd get stuck with you." He gave Hubert a long look. "Alright, here's what ahm gonna do with you. I'm gonna run you into the ground for the rest of this week, you're gonna build up some muscle, yer gonna learn how to go into combat should we possibly need you." BeachHead frowned and shook his head. "Though I'm not sure much good you'll be, makin friends with the enemy and such."

"Sergeant Major, I will not be making friends with any cobras, commanders of cobras, or any men named Cobra. I understand how to go into combat, Sergeant Major. I know how to, its just the ability to do so is somewhat non-existent."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Punching bag. But yer gonna have to get yer behind in gear. Watch yer mouth. I'd be yellin at ya more but ah got the feelin ya can't really control it. Or you just don't know what's acceptable. Either way, yer gonna learn. And no more of this comin in late crap!"

"Understood Sergeant Major. And I would like to say that I kinda like you. Because even though you're loud and you wouldn't let me tie my shoe, you get stuff done, and I respect that. I also accidentally stole the schedule off the bulletin board and I may have started a ninja debacle on the way in here."

"You did what?" BeachHead shook his head. "No, I don't want to know. You have any other complaints or issues you go to Flint alright? You two will be good friends by the end of the week."

"Very well," Hubert nodded and looked away for a moment before looking back. He had not been dismissed and Hubert was not one who left without proper dismissal. He had learned that lesson in Sixth grade.

"Alright. So you try you're hardest and if you improve, then I think you'll fit right in." Hubert was treated with a very stern look. "With other people. Not with me. The last thing I need is a mouthy light pole following me around."

"Good one Sergeant Major."

"Yeah well…get outta here. You're dismissed."

Hubert got up and wandered back out into the hallway. Things were calmer now without the impending doom of being run over by squabbling ninjas and he wandered back to his room, opening the door and flopping on his bed. He realized vaguely that he could be going for dinner now, but he also realized that it would require movement to get him there, and he was much more comfortable on his bed.

That was, until a knock on his door caused him to rise from the bed.

"You are a jerk."

"And you are Hoyden. And you are supposed to be in possession of a key that will allow you to open this door so that I will not have to open it for you."

Hoyden pushed his way in and dropped his bag on the floor. "Well I would have, but you see, I was too busy collapsing from nausea to take the time to dig through my bag."

Hubert nodded. "A side effect from the flight training?"

"Yeah. Apparently Ace wanted to play make the new guy vomit, so I played ruin the plane's interior upholstery. I won."

Hubert smiled. "Congratulations. I say we go out and celebrate with some delicious cafeteria food. What say you?"

"Eating? After that?"

"Yeah."

"…Okay."

* * *

**For those who may not have gathered, Hubert is what is commonly referred to as a "Brain". He's a thinker, a tinkerer, and a talker. Triple T, that's what he is ;) **


End file.
